The Crow King

a windy dusty
king of the mountain
scrabbles over a dusty fountain
rattles the keys of petrified bone
begs the water and hurries home
observes the stately stroke of nine(everybody steps in time)
flinches when the crow-man screams
"CROW!!"
from out the crow-man dreams
a hundred years in blackened rock
measured out by cactus-clock...
a hundred years and i'll be gone